


An Attractive Treatment

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 19th Century Medicine, Canon Era, Gen, Magnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Joly enlists Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire in testing his latest theory.





	An Attractive Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [bobbiewickham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham) as part of the [Bishop Myriel Fundraiser](https://bishopmyrielfundraiser.tumblr.com/)

Joly was absentmindedly rubbing his nose with his cane again, a sure sign he was thinking deeply about something. Feuilly made a mental note of it, in case it wound up like that time with the garlic and the candlesticks, then turned back to the discussion he was having with Jean Prouvaire about wages for women and immigrants versus native Frenchmen. 

It wasn’t long, though, before Joly made his way over to Feuilly and Prouvaire’s table. “I beg your pardon, but may I interrupt?” he asked, looking at the two. 

“Please, by all means,” Prouvaire said, gesturing towards an empty seat. 

“I was wondering,” Joly said, digging in his satchel, “if you two would be willing to assist in a medical experiment.”

“What sort of experiment?” Feuilly asked cautiously, at the same time that Prouvaire excitedly asked, “What would we have to do?”

Joly pulled out a tangled clump of string and magnets and dumped it on the table with a clatter. “Don’t worry, it should be quite safe, with little risk of ill effects. You see, I’ve noticed that patients who require having their limbs immobilized for a period of time, such as in the case of a broken bone, will see their muscles decay in size and tone. I suspect this is because holding the limbs still means that there is no pumping of the muscles to increase blood flow, and without it, the muscles starve and atrophy. Do you follow so far?”

Feuilly and Prouvaire nodded.

“So, blood contains iron,” Joly said.

“It does?” Prouvaire interrupted, surprised. “Is that why it tastes like metal?”

“Quite possibly,” Joly said. “If you look at a drop of blood under a good microscope, you can see little red corpuscles — that is what contains the iron. What purpose it serves, I cannot say, but the important thing is that there is iron in the blood, and iron is magnetic. Thus, it stands to reason that the blood would be affected by magnetic fields.”

Feuilly frowned thoughtfully. “And so you think that magnets would increase blood flow and help the muscles preserve their strength and shape?”

“Exactly!”

“But,” Feuilly pointed out, “I fail to see how we could help you test this theory. Neither of us have broken arms.”

“Bahorel broke his arm once,” Prouvaire stated. “He jumped off a roof when he was a child on a dare.”

“Somehow that fails to surprise me,” Joly said. “But at any rate, Feuilly, I figure that if the magnets would increase the blood flow in a frail arm, they would also increase the blood flow in one that is strong and healthy. And you two are of such different dispositions and lifestyles that if it works on both of you, it could probably work on anyone.”

“I volunteer!” Prouvaire exclaimed.

Feuilly shrugged. “I don’t see any harm in it.”

“A benefit, even, perhaps,” Prouvaire said. “Do you think it will give me muscles like Heracles?”

“Perhaps in time,” Joly said. “But I doubt it will have such drastic results in only twenty-four hours’ time. However, I think that will be long enough to start seeing observable effects. Meanwhile, here, Prouvaire, stand up and hold your arms out straight in front of you, palms up — yes, that’s it. Now, in order to get a base measure of your strength, I will try to push your arms down and you try to resist me. We’ll try it again at the end of the experiment, all right?”

Prouvaire nodded, his face stern with concentration.

“Right, now, push.” Joly placed his own hands on Jean Prouvaire’s and pushed downwards while Prouvaire strained upwards. They struggled for several tense seconds before Joly managed to force Prouvaire’s arms down. “All right,” Joly said, shaking his arms out. “Now, Feuilly.” They repeated the procedure, taking longer this time. 

“Perfect,” Joly said. “Now, just remember how that felt, and we can compare it tomorrow night. Let me get the bracelets.” He pulled at one end of the magnets-and-string clump and, rather unsurprisingly, did not manage to free a bracelet. “Erm. Sorry, this may take a bit.” He picked at the tangled string.

“Here, can I have a look?” Feuilly took the clump from Joly and, after turning it this way and that, pulled carefully at a couple loops, then unthreaded a length of string with magnets tied at regular intervals along it. 

“My greatest thanks, Feuilly,” Joly said. “Now here, hold out your wrist and I can tie this on. Do you have a preference for right or left hand?” 

“Left, if you please. Less of a risk of getting paint on it that way.”

“Oh, paint shouldn’t affect it. The magnetic forces can even work through other objects if it’s a strong enough magnet.”

“But I wouldn’t want to ruin —“

“Feuilly. It’s fine. I don’t care if you get paint on it.”

Feuilly sighed, then said, “I still would prefer the left hand.”

Joly dutifully tied the bracelet around Feuilly’s left wrist, then asked the same question of Prouvaire.

“I would prefer the left hand as well. I want to see if it affects my handwriting.”

“I—“ Joly looked about to protest, then pulled back, thoughtful. “Hm. That would be an interesting side effect. If you could please make a note of whether it does indeed have any effect on your handwriting?”

“Absolutely!” 

* * *

The next evening, at the appointed time, Feuilly, Prouvaire, and Joly met in the Corinthe.

“So,” Joly said, setting out pen, ink, and paper, ready to take notes. “Did either of you notice any difference in your muscular capabilities?”

“Er…no, not as such. They certainly seem to be doing something, though,” Feuilly said. “Petit Charles managed to get a chain of four pins dangling end-to-end from one of the magnets.”

“Pins? What were you—?”

“He didn’t have any deliveries to make, he was bored, and I didn’t need that hand for what I was doing.” Feuilly shrugged. 

“You didn’t get any paint on your bracelet,” Prouvaire noted.

“I did, but I was able to wash it off right away. But what’s that on yours?”

“Oh!” Jean Prouvaire pulled a trio of small buttons off of one of the magnets. “I had thought to decorate it, but I ran out of buttons that would stick.”

“Did you notice any difference in your strength?” Joly asked, pen poised over his paper. “Or your handwriting?” he added.

“Perhaps? I forgot to test the handwriting. Here, may I see your pen?” Prouvaire wrote a couple lines of verse in his small, looping handwriting. “Hm, no. No difference,” he said sadly.

Feuilly peered at the paper. “Prouvaire, did you just write that backwards?”

“Oh, yes, I usually do that when writing for myself. It’s less smudgy that way.”

Feuilly silently mimed writing with his left hand. “Huh. I suppose it would be. I never thought about that before.”

Joly sprang up from his seat. “Right, then. Let’s try and see if there has been any change in your strength since last night, shall we?” 

They repeated the procedure of Joly trying to push down Feuilly and Prouvaire’s arms.

“Feuilly, I didn’t notice any difference with you, do you agree?” Joly asked afterwards.

“I think so. It’s hard to remember exactly how it felt.”

“So, probably negative results, but not completely conclusive,” Joly said, making a note. “Prouvaire, though, I did seem to notice more resistance on your part.”

“Did you?” Jean Prouvaire said, perking up. “I was making more of an effort this time.”

“Can you try again and this time not make more of an effort?” Joly asked gently. “Not that I don’t appreciate you trying to be helpful, but my observations will need to be as consistent as possible.”

The experimental procedure was repeated. “I am unsure as to whether there was any difference this time,” Joly said. 

“I agree,” Prouvaire said. “It didn’t feel as much as it did just a little while ago, but that seems to have overrode last night’s experience in my mind.”

“Well, my thanks, friends,” Joly said, putting away the bracelets and blotting his notes. “I think that I will try to persuade one of the physicians to let me try this therapy on the next patient we see where this may be beneficial.”

“I’m glad to have possibly contributed to the advance of science,” Prouvaire said with a smile.

“Indeed. A therapy such as this, non-invasive and painless, would be of great benefit.” Feuilly said.

“Precisely. Matelote!” he called to the server, who had been lingering nearby watching the experiment unfold. “Wine, to celebrate a new discovery!”

**Author's Note:**

> PSA that magnetic bracelets do NOTHING medically speaking, despite what some people seem to still think to this very day (looking at you, aunt who inspired this fic). Please keep in mind that Joly is working off of early 19th century medical knowledge and that he also probably believes in miasmas and that bleeding and purging are helpful for most diseases.


End file.
